


Inflammable Mercenaries Make Bad Liars

by LaughingStones



Series: Obligatory Fantasy AU (But Not the One You Were Expecting) [1]
Category: Motorcity
Genre: (brain whistles innocently), (looks sternly at brain), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Chuck's a mage, Dragons, M/M, Mike's a... mercenary, This is definitely not an au I will be writing more of, nope definitely not this is it, pre-slash if you look close
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 12:38:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9323942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingStones/pseuds/LaughingStones
Summary: Chuck gets curious about the mercenary he's hired as a bodyguard. Mike can't keep up a deception for the life of him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Roachpatrol and Curlicuecal for the betas! My fics are always better thanks to their sharp eyes.

Chuck had known Mike for a week, which was plenty of time to realize that perpetual motion was going to be an exciting new part of his life. Mike stopped moving only when he was asleep, when he was eating, and every now and then when Chuck looked up to find him holding weirdly still, staring at nothing. The rest of the time, he was a bouncing, fidgeting, pacing mess, and it was a damn good thing they spent most of every day traveling, because Chuck didn't think an attempt to strangle his bodyguard would go well. About as well as an attempt to set him on fire, he thought, and sighed.

“Mike. Please, for the sake of my last shreds of sanity, sit the fuck down.” He gestured pointedly to the log seat on the other side of the campfire. “You can sit still while you're eating easily enough, why can't you just keep doing that?”

“Aw, sorry, dude,” Mike said sheepishly, dropping obediently onto the log. “Just not made like that, I guess. ‘m I distracting you?”

“It's not like it takes much,” Chuck grumbled. Raising a hand, he tried one more time to draw a gust of wind across his palm. He managed a faint breath of movement, and across the fire Mike's eyes flared briefly gold as Chuck’s magic stirred tiredly.

Chuck sighed again and rubbed his temples. “I should probably quit anyway. Air has some similarities to fire, but it's just not coming like fire does. If I keep pushing it when I'm tired I'll just hurt myself.”

“Hey, you can do a breeze now,” Mike offered. “That's better than you managed a few days ago!”

“I can manage a _puff of air_ ,” Chuck corrected. “Oooh, _exciting_. Now I can blow a candle out! Probably! I'm better off doing it like a non-mage, I've got better control of my lungs than this.”

Mike shrugged. “You said you only just got the air alignment, right? So you're gonna need practice, dude. Relax.”

“ _Mmgrm_ ,” Chuck said grumpily, and poked at the fire with a stick.

Mike started tapping his fingers on the leather armor over his stomach, bobbing his head to some inaudible beat. Chuck quietly rolled his eyes and they sat in relatively peaceful silence for a moment.

Then Chuck’s eyes went from Mike’s fingers to the sigils burned into the armor across the chest and he sat up a little. “Oh, I keep meaning to ask, why do you have a flame-quenching enchantment on your armor?”

Mike blinked at him. “Uh, because sometimes a mercenary runs into angry mages, and fire’s not an unusual alignment?”

Chuck frowned. “Okay, but why would you care?”

Mike's eyes widened. “Uh. Because burning is bad.”

“You wouldn't burn, though, would you? Or is it to protect your clothing? I guess that--”

“Wha--what are you talking about?” Mike said, eyes round as he shifted on his log, trying to find a place to put his restless hands. “I would totally burn if you tried to set me on fire!” A wisp of white smoke, barely visible in the firelight, came out of his mouth in his agitation, and Chuck watched in puzzlement as Mike noticed it and pretended to cough. The campfire was burning cleanly, without any smoke.

Chuck had probably met worse liars in his life, but he couldn't think of any right now. He just couldn't figure out _why_ Mike was lying. “I don't think you would, dude. Aren't you guys pretty much fireproof?”

Mike swallowed and tried to laugh, which didn't really work when his eyes were still that wide. “Hahaha, what guys? Mercenaries?”

“Nooo,” Chuck said. “Dragons.”

“Wha--dragons, no, what? I'm not a--wow, uh, why would you think that?” Mike said desperately.

Completely bewildered, Chuck pulled his hair off his forehead to raise his eyebrows at Mike, who could only keep it up another second before groaning and putting his hands over his face.

“Were you actually trying to keep it a secret?” Chuck said in astonishment.

“Of course!”

“Why?”

Mike stared at him. “You're… not running away.”

Chuck stared back. “Well observed. It's not reassuring that you think I should be, but--”

“No! You're safe! I swear!” Mike stretched out both hands towards him, palms out, _no harm, no weapons_ , almost comically earnest except for the anxious look in his eyes. “I wouldn't hire on as a bodyguard and then hurt you!”

“I know,” Chuck said gently. “Draconic traits notwithstanding, you're probably the least threatening mercenary I've ever met.”

Mike looked conflicted for a moment, like he wanted to be relieved and offended at the same time, but relief won out. “So, I can keep guarding you?”

“Of course. Why not?”

“...Some people are scared of dragons.”

“When they're in human form? Why?”

Mike blinked at him. “Uh. Because… they're still dragons, even if they look human?”

“Well, I'm not saying there are a lot of dragons in my city, but there are a few, and the only warnings I ever heard were not to play dice with them, because they don't lose money gracefully, and not to meet their eyes if they got angry.” Chuck shrugged. “Which isn't that different from how to behave around drunk fighters.”

“Whoa,” Mike said, staring again. “So… when are you going back there?”

“After I find a way to get aligned with water,” Chuck reminded him. “Which is going to be a while, and I'm probably not going to need a bodyguard for the trip back.”

Mike's face fell.

Chuck wondered for the fiftieth time in the past few days how a dragon could remind him so powerfully of a puppy, in this case one who'd just been denied pats. He reminded himself that no matter how adorable (or good-looking), he was not going to take the mercenary home with him.

“So, you've met a lot of people who are scared of dragons?”

“Oh yeah,” Mike said. “Everybody back home was. I mean, you know, the folks living nearby.”

“If they lived near you, shouldn't they have known you weren't dangerous?”

“Uh. Well.” Mike’s eyes slid away from Chuck’s. “Guess not.”

“Mike,” Chuck said sternly. “What were they afraid of?”

Mike lowered his head with a sigh. “Getting eaten. Having their crops or homes burned, their livestock eaten.”

Chuck’s breath caught in his throat and his voice came out a lot higher than he meant. “And… did that stuff _happen?_ ”

Mike looked up, chewing unhappily on his lip. There was a long pause before he answered. “Sometimes. They sent people up to kill one of us! With crystal blades and a powerful mage! Of _course_ some of us struck back. If they were going to attack us over a few goats and a fire we didn't even start, we wanted them to leave!” His voice dropped. “It didn't work out like that.”

Chuck was horrified, of course, at what sounded like plain idiocy on both sides, but he was also extremely distracted by-- “Crystal blades? As in Eklesian? Where the _hell_ did they find those? I mean, you can find a dagger, sometimes, if you somehow find a ruin no one else has touched, but it sounds like you're talking about _swords_.”

Which had been used to attack him and his people, Chuck reminded himself with a mental kick as Mike shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “They're around,” he muttered.

It was probably rude to marvel over the excellence of the one weapon known to be useful against dragons, when talking with a dragon. Chuck coughed. “Um. Sorry. So, you left?”

Mike nodded. “Eventually. I got bored of hiding, and fighting got old… pretty fast.”

Chuck tilted his head. “...So you became a _mercenary._ ”

“And now everyone I fight is armed and expecting it,” Mike said firmly, “and I'm the same size as them and not breathing fire. Plus, I like protecting people. The bodyguarding thing works pretty good.”

“And no one ever said anything about the dragon thing before?”

“No one knew until you! I do a really good human impression,” Mike protested. “I don't know how you figured it out.”

“Mike. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your ‘human impression’ is about as solid as my grasp on air magic. You're _really obvious_.”

Mike's mouth dropped open. It was annoyingly adorable. “What? No I'm not! I--I totally--what gave me away?”

Chuck shook his head pityingly. “Dude. I could give you a list. I mean, there's the way your eyes change color every time I do magic, and the way you blow smoke when you get worked up, there's how you sort of fixate on any jewelry and money and precious things around you and stop blinking for a while, which is kind of disturbing, you know? You don't act cautious of burns around fire, even when you're not in your armor. Then there's the fact that you sometimes growl in your sleep.” Chuck shrugged. “I mean, sure, that part could be a lot of different things, like werewolf or something, but together with all the rest--yeah. Obvious, dude.”

Mike's shoulders slumped. “Dang,” he muttered. “I thought I was getting good at it.”

“Well, you really shouldn't have to worry about it,” Chuck said in an attempt to comfort. “As far as I know, no one in these parts has anything against dragons in particular, so it doesn't matter how bad you are at hiding it.”

Mike blinked and shook his head. “Huh. So… do you think people noticed before you?”

Chuck folded his lips in for a moment, trying to imagine anyone failing to notice Mike’s general… Mikeness. “Yyyeah. I think they probably did.”

Mike huffed. “I wish they'd told me.”

Considering how oblivious Mike could be, Chuck was pretty sure multiple people could have dropped stray comments about his species without him noticing. He decided not to point this out.

Mike’s face suddenly brightened. “Hey! Now that you know--how far away did you say this place was?”

“About another five days of travel,” Chuck said cautiously.

“Sure, by _foot_. I bet we can get there tomorrow if I transform and carry you!”

“ _No_.”

“Aw, come on! It'd be _way_ faster than--”

“No! Faster and also high up in the air and _no!_ ”

“Chuck, it'd be totally safe! It's not like I'd ever drop you,” Mike said in what he clearly thought was a reasonable tone.

“Completely safe, no chance of death at all!” Chuck said, voice somewhat shrill. “And yet, still no! Forget it! And I'm going to sleep now!” He grabbed a blanket, wrapped it around himself and flopped down on his side, eyes determinedly closed.

“Aw, Chuck, can't you--”

“Sleeping!” Chuck snapped without opening his eyes.

From across the fire came a sigh. “Okay, buddy. Whatever you want. Have a good sleep, okay?” There was a rustle and creak as Mike stood up, followed by quiet footsteps as he resumed pacing, this time walking circuits around their little camp. He would bed down eventually himself, but dragons rarely needed much sleep.

Chuck pulled a corner of blanket over his face. He didn't particularly want to dream about any handsome bodyguards, but in a choice between that and dreaming about being hundreds of feet in the air moving at high speed, he knew which one he'd pick.

He was pretty sure he was going to have to have the no-flying argument all over again in the morning, too. Fucking _dragons_.


End file.
